


Bad Things

by This_world_of_beautiful_monsters



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (IDW Comics), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Elements of Prostitution, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Not inspired by my actual experiences, TMNT Macro-Series: Raphael, Torture, Underage Sex, child molestation, like the title says, threats/intimidation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:26:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27187918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_world_of_beautiful_monsters/pseuds/This_world_of_beautiful_monsters
Summary: Raph reflects on a bad experience while being held captive by the EPF.
Relationships: Alopex/Raphael (TMNT), Raph/OC villain
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Bad Things

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I take a very dark issue and make everything ten thousand times worse. Ta-fucking-da.
> 
> Sorry this is so long. I thought about dividing it into chapters, but it seemed to flow better this way.

"Wake it up."

Someone hits him with a bolt of lightning and Raph screams, can't help it because he feels like he's being burned alive from the inside out. He jerks backward, only to be yanked to an abrupt stop by the wires running over him, into him, _through_ him.

He's in a tank, spread out, on fucking _display_ like an animal in the zoo. He tries to yank on the wires so he can curl in on himself, and it hurts so bad the world turns black on the edges. He's lost, floating in a slick grey sea that smells of chemicals and fear.

_He's so hungry and cold it feels like he's floating. And he's alone; Blind Buck's been dead for weeks, a wound that still digs at him._

_If he wasn't alone, there'd be someone to distract the shopkeepers so he could steal their food. If he wasn't alone, there would be someone to help him force open the frozen dumpsters. If he wasn't alone, there would be someone to keep him safe from the muggers who come upon him while he was shivering against a wall, paralyzed by the falling snow and his own cold blood. They took his jacket and what little food he had left, slapping the "freak" around for good measure._

_"Hello, there." There's a man standing over him, wearing a nice coat and a curious expression. He flinches, instinctively cowering in on himself as he waits for the man to see his exposed green skin and start screaming or hitting him._

_He doesn't do either. Instead, he sinks to his knees in front of him, cocking his head. "Hmmm...you're something else entirely, aren't you? Not like any of the other boys." He reaches out and runs a gentle finger down the freak's face, onto his chest. The action is so shocking that he forgets to move._

_"Yes, you're something new. A rare find." The man smiles, a smile that should remind him of Buck, but it makes him feel different than Buck's smiles. Kind of...weird. Kind of frightened._

_Still, no one has smiled at him since Buck died, so he smiles back._

That sadistic creep Bishop is standing on the other side of the glass, smiling at him, and the sight makes Raph so angry he almost forgets the pain for a moment.

"The fuck is this?" he gasps out through that freaky mask thing they've got strapped on his face. "What, did all the bondage joints have a no-sunglasses policy?"

Bishop raises a carefully groomed eyebrow. "I see you're coherent enough to be disrespectful. The lab techs assumed you'd be too drugged up to do anything except drool and grunt, but I knew better. You're one of the sturdier members of an extremely resilient race, R. That's why I chose you. That, and your rather suicidal urge to wander the city by yourself. Honestly, if we hadn't caught you, someone else probably would have."

Raph grits his teeth. "My name is _Raphael_ , dipshi-"

Bishop presses a button and another blast of electricity shoots through the wires, making him writhe like a puppet on its strings. Raph can't help himself, he _shrieks_. The humiliation feels worse than the pain.

"Your name," Bishop says calmly. "is whatever it says on your government papers. Since neither you nor your brothers are likely to produce a birth certificate anytime soon, your name is R, and R it will remain. Now, _R_ , I have a few questions to ask you. Any refusal to answer or disrespectful behavior will be disciplined immediately. If you're a good boy, I _might_ allow you to have anesthesia during your vivisection.

"Do we have a deal?"

_"I have a warm bed at my house, and plenty of food," the stranger says, gripping his jaw possessively. "If you come with me, and be a good boy, I'll let you indulge in both."_

_"What's the catch?" he growls through chattering teeth, trying to ignore how his heart leaps at the promise_ _. A_ bed _. Buck talked about beds, but he's never slept in one before._

_The man laughs, bright teeth flashing in the streetlight. "Clever little thing, aren't you? The catch is, you have to do everything you're told, like a good guest should. Do you understand?"_

_He doesn't, not really, and alarm bells are ringing somewhere in the back of his head. But he's hungry, and tired, and so very cold. The man's still smiling at him and he reminds himself that he doesn't know a lot about the world yet. Maybe smiles can mean different things without being bad._

_So he nods, and lets himself be led away._

"First question," Bishop announces, flipping through a notepad. "When you were abducted, you made several references to a 'Mother' after being sedated. Was that merely instinct, or were you referring to another mutant? Some sort of caretaker, perhaps?"

Tang Shen's face flashes across his mind, a shadow he's only glimpsed in dreams, eyes wise and beautiful. Bishop can't know about her.

"Ya misheard me," Raph growls. "I was talking about _your_ mother. I banged her last night. Even uglier than you, but she sucks cock like a--"

He's bracing himself, but the electric shock still makes him cry out.

Bishop doesn't even look angry. "So, another mutant then?" He smirks. "Should I be looking for a giant, childbearing tortoise? Start excavating the sewers, maybe?"

"No," Raph hisses, praying that Bishop doesn't notice how his heart skips a beat at the mention of sewers. "She-she's no one. She's dead."

"My condolences," says Bishop, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Raph hates him.

_"Brrrr! I hate the winter, don't you?" The man's voice is much more relaxed and cheery now that they're no longer sneaking through his apartment building. He closes the door and locks it with a click, a sound that the freak has only ever heard from the outside before. For some reason the sound makes his stomach jump a little._

_He's distracted, though, by all the glittering_ things _in this man's room; things he's only ever glimpsed through the windows and on TV screens. He wants to touch everything, but he keeps his hands in his pockets, suddenly embarrassed._

_The stranger chuckles at the sight of him just standing in the middle of the room. "Well, don't be shy! Take off your clothes."_

_He nods and starts towards the bathroom, but the man blocks his way. "No, I want to see you."_

_The request is a little strange, but he tells himself that this stranger probably wants to make sure he isn't carrying any weapons. That's smart._

_He undresses, shivering as he feels the stranger's eyes move over his body. The man reaches out, running a hand down the back of his neck and across his shell. "Magnificent," he breathes, and the freak feels his heart swell at the praise._

_Then the other hand reaches between his legs and he tenses. The touch sends pleasant little tingles through his body, but with them come intense feelings of_ wrongness _. He doesn't like this man like that way; he doesn't want to be touched like that. He waits for the hand to move on, but it stays still, and then a thumb digs into his slit. He gasps and squirms, starting to pull away._

_"Now, now," the man says, shaking his head at him. "You promised, remember?" His grip tightens slightly, a warning._

_He doesn't know what to do. Being touched like this scares him in a way no violent attack ever has, and his muscles lock. He lets the man run his fingers up and down his tail, watching his eyes go wide as it quivers. He feels cold fingers poke at his entrance and feels nauseous._

_The man suddenly drops his hands. "Now do me," and the freak's so glad he's not being touched anymore that he rushes to comply, fingers shaking as he undoes the shirt buttons and belt. When he pulls on the boxer shorts the man widens his stance slightly, forcing the freak to drop to his knees so he can finish tugging them down._

_He's about to get back up when a hand grabs him by the back of the head and pushes his face against a throbbing cock. "Lick," the man orders._

Bishop's still talking. "The presence of a Mother suggests a Father," he says. "Is there a mutant in your life who played that role? Some kind of teacher or guardian, who instructed you and your brothers in your rather irritating skill set?"

 _Splinter_. The storm of emotions stirred up by that name--affection, grief, rage, abandonment, confusion, shame--hurts almost as much as the wires do. The old fart has had dealings with Bishop; what he would say if he saw what he was doing to Raph now?

_Congratulate him on getting me to sit still, most likely._

Still, Raph loves his father, so he grits his teeth and doesn't say anything, waiting for the pain.

But Bishop just rubs his chin, following a train of thought. "You were muttering to yourself in Japanese when we took you down, as well. Is that how you learned to fight, by watching martial arts films? Your species has shown an unnatural talent for mimicry."

"Yeah," mutters Raph through gritted teeth. "That's it."

Bishop gives him one of those grins that makes Raph's blood boil. "Heart monitor says you're lying." Yet another shock; his throat is starting to hurt from all the screaming.

"Do you know Splinter?" Bishop asks suddenly, almost to himself, and Raph's breath catches. "Mutant rat, almost as hideous as you. He's the master of this idiotic ninja cult that calls itself the Foot."

His smile broadens. "Of course, if you _did_ have some sort of connection with Splinter, you wouldn't have been wandering around New York on your own, would you? Especially not when times are so...tense for your kind."

He leans towards the glass. "The all-powerful Master of the Foot Clan would have done everything in his power to keep his son safe, _wouldn't_ he? He would have succeeded in that, if nothing else."

Raph can hear the sound of monitors speeding up. He takes deep breaths, battling the sudden urge to cry.

"Ah. Touched a nerve, didn't I?" Bishop looks triumphant.

"Eat shit," Raph mutters.

"Charming. No wonder Daddy dearest kicked you out." Bishop turns to a nearby computer screen and presses a few buttons. "We're going to take some more blood, now. Hold still."

_"Hold still," the man growls, digging his fingers into the back of the freak's head as he tries to pull away._

_He looks up, heart pounding, trying and failing not to let his voice shaking. "P-please, I don't want..."_

_"Yes, you do. You came up here with me, didn't you? And if you're going to be a little tease about it, why then, I'll just have to call the authorities about the monster that snuck into my room. And do you what'll happen next? They'll want to take you home and play with you, too, only they won't be nearly as nice as me."_

_"No...no..." He shakes, remembering searing lights overhead, the glint of painful needles. And farther back, the glint of an upraised blade, the sharp bite of a monster's teeth in his neck._

_Confusing words swirl through his head, words like_ honor _and_ dignity. _There's a voice screaming at the back of his head to fight back, he knows how, he proved that with Buck's murderers. Another voice whispers that_ they _would be disappointed in him for giving in._

 _But he's trembling so hard that he can't stand up, much less fight. And whoever_ they _are,_ they're _not here right now._

_(a part of him will never forgive them for that)_

_So he does what he's told like a good boy. He licks when he's told to lick, and suck when he's told to suck. The man moans, swelling up to choke him, patting the top of his head like he's a dog. He's told that he's doing such a good job, that he feels wonderful, and a shameful little part of the freak likes hearing those words. When his mouth is filled with something warm and sticky, he swallows it obediently._

_Afterwards, the man helps him to his feet and laps the tears from his face. "Beautiful," he whispers, and the freak looks at him blankly. The voice screams_ _to run, punch, do_ something, _but it's drowned out by shame and fear and white noise._

_He's taken by the hand, and the freak hopes that he's being led to the kitchen, that at least he'll get something to eat out of this nightmare. Instead, the man guides him into a dimly lit bedroom. "It'll take a little time before I can...recharge...I'm afraid" he admits, popping some kind of pill. "But we can still have plenty of fun in the meantime." He holds up a camera._

His right arm is stinging, and he can see blood shooting down one of the many tubes. It makes him feel nauseous, which is weird; he's seen himself bleed more times than he can count. It's never been so clinical, though. He's never had so great a sense of being _harvested_.

Bishop's words break into his thoughts, and Raph's more grateful for the distraction than he should be. "Were you raised in a different environment than your brothers?" he asks. "Your fight style is less polished than theirs, more destructive. Not to mention that ridiculous accent. Sounds like something out of a 90s cop show."

"You're one to talk, Agent Smith," Raph growls. "Why do you even care?"

"Well, for one thing, it might explain why they aren't here yet," Bishop says. He's wearing a vicious grin, as if he knows exactly how the implication makes Raph's stomach flip.

It's a thought that haunts him on his worst nights, that there might be an insurmountable gap between him and others. After all, he ~~is tainted dirty vicious unforgivable~~ was raised differently from them. He's never been able to fall in on line, to play nice, and sometimes he worries that they'll get sick of it and just throw him out.

But he pushes that thought back down as he shoots a death glare at Bishop, because his brothers love him and how _dare_ this psychotic piece of shit suggest otherwise.

Bishop's not even looking at him, however, as he flips through that pad. "More importantly," he says mildly, "If different upbringings created a big enough difference in your physiologies, we might have to capture one of _them_ , after you've shuffled off this mortal coil, and repeat the process. Perhaps the little one in orange? He's not as much of an outsider of you, but definitely more dull-witted."

Raph lurches forward, barely registering how much it hurts (but he notices the creak and give of the wires, and files that memory away in the back of his mind) as he snarls, "You even _touch_ my brothers, you sick fucking cunt, and I will rip you out of that shitstained tin can and skin you _alive_."

Bishop's jaw tenses for the first time, and Raph pounces. "Oh, have I _touched a nerve?_ " he hisses gleefully. "You're sitting in that Mini-Me chair of yours jacking off to this, aren't ya? I bet the only reason you're so obsessed with mutants is that ya want to fuck us, you perverted little bi--"

He's shocked again, and again, and again, and every time is worth it. He screams, thrashes, yanks on the wires and feels them groan. His head snaps back as lights dances in front of his eyes.

_The camera light flashes, again and again. The click is a metronome in his head. He's hypnotized. He's numb. He does what he's told, because if he doesn't the men will come take him away._

_"Sit crosslegged--like this. That's good. Now put your thumb in your mouth and suck. Tilt your head."_

_"Turn over, on your hands and knees. Good. Now, lift that pretty little tail of yours. Let me see you."_

_"Look over your shoulder and bite your lip. Good, good. Now look like you're thinking of how much you want me. You do want me, don't you? Monsters always want someone to love them."_

_"Turn back around, lean back against the bedstead, put your arms over your head. Now smile. Smile. Smile! Do you want me to start yelling? My landlord has a gun, he's an excellent shot. Three, two, one..."_

_"There. That wasn't so bad, was it? You look so friendly when you smile."_

_"Touch yourself. Go on, don't be shy. Like this, see?"_

_"Oh, there you are. You're a big one, aren't you?"_

_He'll be satisfied with this. He has to be. And then the freak will get something to eat and won't have to have to run back into the cold._

_"Don't just sit there, baby. Keeping going. Doesn't that feel nice? Oh, you're making such beautiful sounds..."_

He swims back from a burning haze to hear Bishop say "I want to talk about Leonardo."

Raph blinks. "Huh?"

"Your brother. Technically his name is target B, but you're confused enough as it is."

"Oh, right," Raph smirks. "He beat your ass good, didn't he? Chopped you up in front of everyone."

Bishop hums. "It's a real pity he isn't human; he could have been a valuable addition to my forces. He's a born tactician, manipulative, charismatic, ruthless to the point of bloodthirsty."

Raph frowns. "Leo ain't--" He cuts himself off, but Bishop's already scented weakness. "Isn't bloodthirsty? He did 'chop me up in front of everyone,' as you so eloquently put it."

"Well, ya look right as rain now," Raph points out, glancing at Bishop's arms.

He shrugs. "Perhaps, but your brother didn't know my true nature at the time. He'd seen the cybernetics in my head, yes, but had no reason to suspect they had spread to the rest of my body. For all he knew, he might have ended up with a very nasty mess to clean off of those ridiculous swords of his."

Raph squirms a little inside, he never thought of it that way. "Either way, ya deserved it," he says firmly. "He shoulda just cut ya in half."

Bishop shrugs. "I'm not really a mood to debate interspecies morality right now, especially with you. My question is, do you think your brother would trade himself to secure your release, permitting me to do things that would make your treatment look like preschool, or would he take the more logical route of leaving you to die?"

The tank tilts. Raph surges forward (more searing pain, more hopeful creaks) growling, "You chokin' on carbon dioxide in there or somethin', C-Threepio? Leo would _never--_ "

"Well, so far that's exactly what he's done," Bishop points out, drumming his fingers on the tank's surface thoughtfully. "I had people studying you four for weeks, you know. All the reports suggest that your most defining traits is picking fights: with random criminals, with your siblings, with anything that moves. You're emotionally unbalanced, a loose cannon, and the fact that you haven't killed anyone yet--that we know of--is nothing short of a miracle. Perhaps your family might realize they're happier without you. Who knows?"

Having those thoughts is one thing, but hearing them laid out like that--so clearly, so _reasonably_ \--feels like razor blades in his ears. He yanks harder on the wires, grounding himself with physical pain.

"I am asking," Bishop continues blandly, "because based on your opinion I might have to use you as a bait to catch one of your more emotionally vulnerable brothers before I use _him_ to catch Leonardo, which might be a bit more of a logistical hassle. Donatello, perhaps? I'll admit, I have been aching to get him in an MRI machine..."

"Shut up," Raph breathes.

Bishop cocks his head, a mocking smile on his lips. "I beg your pardon?"

"SHUT UP!" Raph screams, lunging once again. "You don't know _shit_ about my family! And maybe you're right, maybe you're wrong, but either way we're in the same fucking boat, 'cause you're a freak strung up'n a box, _just like me,_ only you don't have anything waiting for you on the other side and _you know it_ so that's why you do this, that's why you're hurtin' me--"

He keeps his eyes on the button, so when Bishop presses he's ready. He knows how long it will take for the electricity to reach him, he knows exactly where to throw himself to make one of the thickest cables break with a resounding _snap_.

Bishop blinks. "Interesting."

_"You make the most interesting faces when you come," says the man, running a hand down his trembling neck. "It's like you've just figured out the answer to an important question."_

_His thighs and sheet are sticky. For some reason, the sensation reminds him of blood on grass._

_The man starts pushing him on his back and he jerks himself upright, trying to regain some control. "No," he growls, grabbing hold of the man's hand. "No more." He squeezes, ready to crush bone--_

_The man grabs him between the legs and viciously twists, making the freak fall back with a scream. "Don't be ungrateful," the man whispers, breath hot on his ear. "It's unbecoming."_

_He lets go, allowing the freak to curl in on himself with a moan. He hears the man rifling through cabinets, opening a jar._

_"You need me," the man purrs, dropping onto the bed besides him. "Do you think anyone else would ever look at you, much less admire your beauty?" He's flipped on his shell, and then a rough, wet finger breaches him, smooth and slick._

_"I need you, and you need me. So hold still, little monster, and let me take care of you."_

_"S-stop..." he gasps out. His limbs twitch spasmodically. Why can't he move? Why is the horror crushing down on him, paralyzing him, strangling his voice to a whimper?_

_He's being stretched out, prepared._ Like a lamb to the slaughter, _he thinks, and a hysterical giggle rises in his belly, building to a scream before it strangles in his throat._

_When the man slams inside him he wants to howl, but all that comes out is a soft gasp. It hurts, it hurts so bad, like ~~dying again~~ being ripped apart._

_He bites his lip, feeling blood rushing down his throat, relishing the taste._

_With every movement, every grunt and groan the man makes, the freak feels parts of himself crumble away and fade to black. He wonders what'll be left when it's over._

He twists in midair, and another cable _snaps_. Blood runs down his shell, and he's burning with white hot pain, but he doesn't care.

There's a clatter behind Bishop, and he see the blurry outline of a technician jumping to his feet. "Jesus fuck--sir, you need to get back."

"It's fine," Bishop says, idly waving him away. "He can't get out, and even if he could," he rests a hand on the butt of his gun, "he'd be dead in seconds."

"Maybe," Raph grunts. He yanks his legs up, savagely, and welcomes the pain as more wires break. "But I'm sure as shit taking you with me."

Bishop smiles at him, raising an eyebrow. "You can't expect me to believe that. I've seen the lengths your species will go to stay alive for more one more minute, to earn one more breath of air."

Raph smiles back. "Death's an old friend."

_The man rolls off of him with a satisfied sigh, "Wonderful," he whispers. "You're a miracle made flesh."_

_The freak stares at the ceiling, bruised and bleeding. He can feel himself dying, but he doesn't mind. Dead things can't feel pain. Dead things can't be trapped in their own bodies._

_He lies there for a while, listening to the man fall asleep. The blood dries on his legs. He says goodbye to his older, softer self. It's a familiar process by now: he went through it for Buck's death, for his mutation, for his execution at the hands of a man whose face he can't remember._

_He lets the old self die._

_And then, because dead things can't be trapped in their own bodies, the monster sits up and wraps his hands around the man's throat._

An explosion ripples over the facility, accompanied by pounding feet and firing guns. Bishop turns his head, a look of concern slithering across his oh-so-pristine face. Raph smiles at the sight.

His smile grows even broader when he hears familiar sounds echoing through the walls: vicious roars, the whine of antigrav gear, a panicked man screaming _you crazy fucking bitches!_ Those noises are practically Angel and Alopex's theme song.

He leans back and slams himself into the glass, the impact jarring through his bones.

_The man slams a knee between his legs, where he's still sore, and he screams as they tumble off the bed. He scrambles away and jumps to his feet. The man crawls out of the room, towards his pants--he must have his phone in his pocket, of course--so the monster stamps on his hand, relishing the crunch of broken bones._

_He runs from room to room, looking for the kitchen, while behind them the man moans through a bruised throat, "You...miserable...little..slut...I'll..."_

_He plucks a knife from the magnetic block. He's never touched one before, not in this form, but there's something so_ right _about holding a blade in his hand. He watches from a distance as his body walks back to the man._

_The man tries to wriggle away as the monster drops to his side, but he grabs a handful of hair in one hand and lifts the knife with the other._

_"Wait," his attacker gasps, holding up shaking. "Wait, please, stop, I'm sorry. I'll give you money, I'm_ sorry _..."_

_He remembers another man, begging for his life with a blade over his head. Begging never helps anyone._

_"You should have known better than to mess with a monster," he says, and brings the knife crashing down._

He slams into the glass again.

_He brings the knife down again._

Again and again.

_Again and again and again._

Again and again and again.

_Again and again and again and again and his skin is slick with blood._

Again and again and again and again and his mask is off, bitter liquid slipping down his throat.

_He can't stop stabbing until long after the man stops moving._

He hears glass shatter, slicing his skin, and emerges in a rush of pseudo-amniotic fluid as Bishop raises his gun and the room's walls come tumbling down. He feels the familiar bloody burn of being reborn again.

_Rebirth hurts. It always does._

Raph wants to fight Bishop, but another explosion separates them before he's able to fulfill any of his promises. He's sorry for that.

_He washes off the blood, turning up the shower heat until his skin feels like it's on fire. He thinks about using the knife on himself, but he refuses to give that bastard the satisfaction. He smashes the camera and squeezes his eyes shot as he rips the photos to shreds._

Raph runs through the woods panting, bloody, lost, alive, _free_. Soldiers are on his heels, but he is ninja, and the world no longer remembers what people like him can do.

_He stays in the man's apartment for three days, eating his food and putting icepacks on his wounds. He can't bring himself to clean up the mess. He finally leaves after the body's smell becomes unbearable and the aforementioned landlord starts banging on the door. He takes a teenager's hoodie and jeans that he found in the closet, trying not to think about where they came from._

Someone grazes his forehead with a bullet and he falls into the water. He wants to lose himself, then, in the cold and pain and dark and trauma. He feels like it's smarter to stick to what he knows.

_He lives on the streets, surviving, eating, hurting people if he needs to. He refuses to trust anyone until one day he meets a boy who needs to be saved, an idea that scares him less than needing someone to save him._

His mother comes to him then, telling him to fight. He agrees, because that's also familiar. He doesn't ask about whether she would say the same thing if she actually had to live in this twisted little world. He's afraid of the answer.

_He finds people who look like him, who give him a real name instead of freak or monster. It takes a solid month before he stops waiting for one of them to demand he show his ''gratitude'' for being allowed to stay. He tells himself that if any of them ever tried it he would kill them, too, but he's honestly not sure._

When he emerges from the water, he tears through the soldiers like a living hurricane. If they kill him, they kill him, but god damn it he's going to be remembered.

_He pounds his angry and shame into punching bags, stone walls, people's faces. Sometimes he takes it out on his brothers, and he always hates himself for it._

He's found by Casey, Alopex, and Angel. His brothers didn't show; not because they don't care, but because they never even realized he was missing. He felt like he was gone for days, but it was only a few hours. Time stretches when you're in Hell.

_He discovers that one of the only things scarier then learning to trust again is having people who trust him to keep them safe. The world is crawling with bad things, things so horrible he can't even warn his family about them, and he's afraid that one of these days they'll slip through his net._

He limps home and his family descends on him. Donnie drowns him in bandages, Pepperoni wriggles into his lap, Mikey glues himself to his side, and Leo...

Leo hugs him, kisses him on the top of his head, and later on when Raph's supposed to be asleep he hears the other turtle sobbing outside his bedroom door. Leo always takes everything onto his shoulders. If Raph ever told him all the bad things that have happened to him, his big brother might just crumble under the weight.

_He meets a girl with white fur and a warrior's eyes. She tries to betray him, too, but he's so proud of himself for figuring it out first he doesn't really mind. He has dreams about her, and sometimes those dreams turn into nightmares, the gentle paws on his body shifting into bare, brutal hands._

He drowns in his rage, in the Pandora's Box of bad things that have been opened in his head. He stands by while the mutagen bomb goes off, and as he watches people writhe on the ground, screaming in pain, an ugly little part of him whispers _That's what it feels like._

Then the guilt comes crashing back down, but the damage is done. He thinks about slitting his wrists with his sai, but the world is still full of monsters and his brothers still need him.

_When he sees Leo walk towards him with empty eyes in a black mask, Raph learns that there are ways of being hurt that even he doesn't know about. But he does know that the experience of being violated, being broken, is completely different while exactly the same for everyone, so he knows that there's no chance in hell of Leo ever completely returning to his old self._

_Sometimes, there's no such thing as "total" recovery._

He has the chance to kill Bishop, but Leo stops him, and the rush of emotions makes him break down in his brother's arms. He's trying to decide whether to push Leo away and get back to work (because deep down he knows that some enemies can't be simply crippled or handed off to your parents, some evils have to be wiped from this world) when Slash's clone makes the decision for him. The almighty Agent Bishop is quite literally squashed like a bug, and he has to content himself with that.

 _Kitsune gets in his head, only for a few minutes, but it's enough to keep him up dry-heaving in a trash can for hours afterward because what if she knows, what if she_ saw.

In the aftermath of his father's death, another death and rebirth, he finally tells Alopex the truth. She tells him that he was in the disoriented state of the freshly mutated, little more than a child, that sexual assault is a thousand times more destructive and paralyzing than physical violence. She tells him that he's been through hell and that he's amazing for having survived. She tells him that being damaged doesn't mean he's broken beyond repair, that she understand what it's like to lose control of yourself and do bad things.

He tries so very hard to believe her.

_Matters break down with their father, and he'll always wonder how much of it was because of him. And he'll always hate their father, a little bit, for leaving them._

He lets himself be touched again, even if sometimes he has to grit his teeth or be roaringly drunk first. He tries to harness the anger and he thinks it gets just a little bit easier.

_Pepperoni is his guide back to the world of regular, nonviolent physical contact. He reminds himself that it's possible to take care of another being without earning the right to hurt them._

Years later he gets a therapist, a squirrel. He has a few breakdowns in her office and feels himself being reborn yet again, but it doesn't hurt quite as much as usual.

_He stays alive._

He suffers and changes and bleeds and rises, ever forward. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, Raph.


End file.
